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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28084050">A Gift of Words</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Canarianyellow/pseuds/Canarianyellow'>Canarianyellow</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dream SMP (Roleplay Canon), Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Canon-Typical Violence, Domestic Fluff, Evil Wilbur Soot, Family Fluff, Found Family, Gen, The Royalty AU no one asked for, TommyInnit Swears (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot Needs a Hug, kind of not really but it sort of applies, wow there's a tag for that</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 11:49:16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,874</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28084050</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Canarianyellow/pseuds/Canarianyellow</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Wilbur Soot was not a good person. </p><p>He never pretended to be- he was a cruel king, a silver-tongued menace. Kind and merciful had never been synonymous with him.</p><p>But now there's a kid calling him a bitch and he's starting to think maybe he's not completely irredeemable</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>No Romantic Relationship(s), Other Relationship Tags to Be Added, Wilbur Soot &amp; TommyInnit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>279</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Questions and Answers</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>fun fact i just called this AU Where Tommy Annoys His Way Into Royalty for like the first week i was thinking about this. SHDFJSD </p><p>Basically its a Tyrant AU but with family dynamics :) because im a sucker for that shit </p><p>Shout out to Chea for listening to me ramble about this AU and helping me come up with shit</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Wilbur Soot was not a good person. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The murmurs died down as he swept into the room,head held high and eyes forward, not giving the prisoner a single glance as he reached his throne. His head guard- Sam, his most trusted guard- stepped in beside him, hand firmly on the hilt of his sword. He swung his cloak away and sat, letting the cloak fall unceremoniously around his form. All eyes were on him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knew he wasn’t- he knows what kind of man he is. The bloodstains on his record were no secret. It was known to everyone just what kind of person he was. His subjects knew him for his cruel and unusual punishments, for his malicious grin when sentencing people to execution. For wars he began and ended with just words, the lands he’s taken and the lives he’s stolen simply because he could- because someone had told him he couldn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because Wilbur, at his core, was a vindictive man. He retaliated tenfold when pushed, snapped cruel words at anyone who defied him. Merciful was never a word used to describe him. He’d heard the names, the whispers they exchanged when he wasn’t looking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, he looked at the prisoner before him, at the </span>
  <em>
    <span>child</span>
  </em>
  <span> standing with shackles on his hands and blood on his chin. He quirked a brow, a small smile forming on his lips. With a small nod, he watched the scribe unfurl her scroll. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A silver-tongued snake, they called him- hungry for any prey that came too close.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A cruel, mad king. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was someone to fear- it was a sentiment shared high and low, from beggar to aristocrat. He was a tyrant to them, a power-hungry king with his hands stained red. He’d earned his throne through bloodshed and deceit, and he was proud of that. He had a sharp tongue, and a deceitfully innocent smile that he easily used to his advantage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So no, Wilbur Soot was not a good person.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The scribe clears her throat, taking one last glance at her king before continuing. With a deep breath, she begins, “Thomathan Innit-” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“-Tommy.” The prisoner cut in, earning a sharp tug to the chains attached to his shackles. He quickly glared at the guard, his entire face scrunching up as if he’d eaten something sour. Wilbur nearly snorts at that, barely containing it as he shifts in his seat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The scribe blinked, nervously looking from the prisoner- Tommy- to Wilbur. He hummed, feigning disinterest as he nodded once again for her to continue. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“T-Tommy Innit, you stand here charged with crimes against your king.” The boy snapped his head over to face her again. She raised her head a little higher, scroll firmly in her hands. “For breaking and entering the royal palace, attempted arson, and attempted theft- all of which are crimes punishable by death. How do you wish to plead?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stared at the scribe for a moment, lips pressed into a thin line. Slowly, he looks away and gives a shrug."Well I got caught, didn't I?" He mumbles. "No point in lying about it- be pretty stupid to do that." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A laugh did escape Wilbur at that- just a small, breathy chuckle from behind his hands as he slid it over his face. He was right- there </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>no point in arguing. The kid was smart, and he had a bite to him. It wasn't every day he saw that in a prisoner. And Tommy's eyes snapped to attention immediately, narrowing at him as the room froze and Wilbur grinned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Tell me, Tommy- it is Tommy, right?" The kid said nothing, jaw clenched tightly as Wilbur leaned forward in his throne. He rested his arm on his crossed legs, lazily placing his chin in his hand. "You seem like a smart kid, you really do." He couldn't keep the smile out of his voice. "So why did you think it would be a good idea to steal from me?" He felt the air leave the room in that moment, could hear the Scribe suck in a quick breath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy's gaze was steel, though. That sour-looking glare had returned as he squared his shoulders. He looked so tall in that moment, for someone not even a teen yet. Then he opened his mouth, determination in his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"'Cause you're a bitch." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everything came to a crashing halt for exactly two seconds, mouths agape and gasps all around. Heads turned quickly from Wilbur to the prisoner, frozen in place momentarily in shock. Wilbur's eyes widened, posture becoming a little straighter as he stared down at him. The </span>
  <em>
    <span>nerve</span>
  </em>
  <span> on this kid, to call him a bitch in front of the entire court. His mouth hung open ever so slightly, the corners tugging into the barest of smiles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then the moment is over- Chains are pulled sharply, forcing the boy to his knees and a hand shoves his head into the stone floor. There’s shouting, from the guards and from the prisoner. Everyone is in a panic as they stare at the incredulous boy. He sees Sam in the corner of his eye, snapping orders quickly to settle the people. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The glint of a sword catches Wilbur's eye, blade pressed against Tommy's neck as the boy struggles against the guards. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s panic in his eyes, burning just as brightly as his determination. The chains around his wrist are pulled taut, straining against his wrists as a guard demands he apologises, voice cutting through the outcries of the other men and women in the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck you!” Tommy barks in response, sucking in a sharp breath as the blade was pressed harder against his neck. He was tense, struggling even as the blade pressed harder. Teeth gritted, his glare turned from the guard to Wilbur. Their eyes locked, and there was something pleading beneath the fire- something he couldn't look away from.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slowly, he broke into a small grin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> And he decided to do something very stupid. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a quick, sharp raise of his hand the din of the room silenced, all eyes on him. He slowly lowered it as everyone's attention landed on him, leaning back in his throne. "Now now, there's no need for violence. He has a point, after all. Maybe I </span>
  <em>
    <span>am </span>
  </em>
  <span>a bitch." He chuckled, laughing despite the dreadful air in the room. "Let the boy up, now. Come on." </span>
</p><p>
  <span> He’s yanked up abruptly by the chains, hands straining against the cuffs as the guard sheaths his sword again. The confusion was clear in his eyes, brows furrowed as he looked sharply at the guards, then back to Wilbur. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur smiled as the boy stood, shoulders raised and back hunched. Slowly, he lowered his hands. The room was silent, everyone waiting on bated breath and Wilbur slowly rose from his seat. He descended towards Tommy, and he could see the panic in his eyes beneath the fire, standing his ground despite the way his knees threatened to buckle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I like you, Tommy.” He stopped just before Tommy, a smile full of sickeningly sweet charm and eyes narrowed with mirth. Tommy looked up at him with confusion and poorly concealed fear. “You’re honest- I like that, not many are these days.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...” Tommy’s face turned into a scowl once again, though more thoughtful than the sour expression from before. “So? What are you gonna do about it?” He asked impatiently, earning a sharp tug of his chains. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur turned his gaze to the guard quickly, relishing in the way he flinched beneath it. “There’s no need for that now, Tommy and I are just having a conversation. Isn’t that right, Tommy?” He smiled, bringing his attention back to the boy. He set a hand on Tommy’s shoulder, watching as his gaze immediately snapped to the hand. He didn’t reply, mouth hanging open just slightly in what Wilbur assumes is surprise. Wilbur’s smile only grew, “You know what?” He turned, hand still on his shoulder, and looked at the lords and ladies amongst the court. “Why don’t we finish this conversation in private. How does that sound, Tommy?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a pregnant pause, all eyes on the prisoner as the boy’s eyes widened and lifted slowly to meet Wilbur’s gaze. He can feel Sam’s gaze on him, incredulous as always at the whims of his king. His mouth opened, then quickly closed. Wilbur could practically </span>
  <em>
    <span>see</span>
  </em>
  <span> the thoughts running through his mind. “Sure- yeah, sure.” he finally managed, blinking at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perfect!” he moved his hand away, clapping his hands together as he looked over everyone. “Well, I think that settles court for the day. Yes?” He looked to the scribe, who was standing open-mouth and stalk-still. She quickly shook herself out of it and nodded her head vigorously. Wilbur gave her a smile, “Excellent. Then, please, everyone: get out.” His tone turned to stone, leaving no room for argument. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a pause, eyes blinking at Wilbur. He rolled his eyes, looking expectantly at Sam. The taller man just huffed and clapped his hands, “Alright, you heard the King- he wants privacy.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everyone left as soon as possibly, briskly exiting the room. Sam bowed slightly before following at a more leisurely pace, closing the main doors behind him. He sighed in relief, shoulders relaxing as he turns to face Tommy and the two guards. “Now,” He waved his hands, gesturing to Tommy’s hands. “Let’s get these off, shall we? Tommy won’t run- won’t you, Tommy?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy quickly shook his head, immediately brightening up at the prospect of having the cuffs removed. The chains clattered to the floor with the turn of a single key from the guards. Tommy immediately rubbed his wrists, trying to soothe the angry red marks left in their wake. He gestured for the guards to leave, leaving Tommy and Wilbur alone in the throne room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Walk with me, Tommy.” He beckoned, gesturing for the boy to follow him. Slowly, Tommy took a step forward and followed him. They moved through the throne room, brushing past the throne as he led the kid further into the castle. He could see Tommy’s eyes linger on the throne as they walked, bringing a small smile to his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tommy.” Blue eyes immediately came to attention, snapping forward to Wilbur. Wilbur glanced at him. “Do you have a family?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He saw Tommy immediately clam up, shoulders going rigid once again. His eyes darted to his hands, the raw skin from the cuffs still an angry red. “No.” he said quietly, voice defensive. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hummed, clasping his hands behind his back as he continued to walk down the hall. “An orphan, then?” He hummed, mulling over that information as he saw Tommy give a sharp, minute nod. “You’re- what, nine, ten?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... Twelve.” He replied, and Wilbur could hear the annoyance in his voice. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Twelve?</span>
  </em>
  <span> You’re quite small for a twelve-year-old.” He grinned at the way Tommy scowled at him, the sour expression coming back with a vengeance. “Quite the gall you have, for someone so young. Calling the king a </span>
  <em>
    <span>bitch-" </span>
  </em>
  <span>He chuckles, pausing beside a window. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well it's true, so, y'know…" Tommy mumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur shook with his laughter, one hand coming to support himself on the window sill as he tried to compose himself. "Oh, really now? Is that what you think." He looked down at Tommy, holding back another bout of laughter at the way he, too, was containing a laugh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, i said it so of course I mean it, bitch." He huffed, hiding a smile. “I’m not some liar who lies about shit.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur just hummed, grinning down at him with amusement. He doubted Tommy was as honest as he acted, but he appreciated it nonetheless. "That's good, honesty </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>the best policy after all." He paused, mulling over his next words as he looked out at the courtyard below, at the servants passing through from the other side of the grand window. “So I’ll be honest with you too, Tommy. I had every intention of having you executed.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The silence that followed was deafening.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy’s swallow is an audible gulp, and Wilbur could hear the way his feet shifted against the stone floor, just barely out of Wilbur’s peripherals.  The tone had changed in an instant. “And…” He started, pausing as he took a shuddering breath. “Why didn’t you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hummed thoughtfully and leaned against the window sill. “Impulse, mostly. I’m a very impulsive man, did you know? And I had a brilliant idea, something better than an execution!” He stands up straight suddenly, turning to smiling at Tommy. “Do you know who the current crowned prince is, Tommy?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy takes one step back, blinking up at Wilbur. “N-” He cleared his throat, “No, i didn’t know we… had one.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Exactly, Tommy!” He congratulates, setting a hand on the boy’s shoulder. Tommy’s eyes snap to his hand, then to Wilbur’s face again. "I have no heir, currently. So i thought- well, why not </span>
  <em>
    <span>you?" </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy gapes, mouth hung open as he stares at Wilbur as if he'd grown a second head. </span>
  <em>
    <span>"What?" </span>
  </em>
  <span>His voice cracked. He blinked rapidly, "What do you- I- </span>
  <em>
    <span>What?"</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“It would be perfect! And It’s not like there is anybody who could say no to it- I’m the king, after all.” He grinned, teeth bared. “I need an heir, Tommy. And who better than </span>
  <em>
    <span>you?” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>That was a partial lie- there were probably better choices, according to anyone else. Nobles and distant relatives that wanted their chance to take the crown. They were greedy, though, and would say anything to appease Wilbur for a chance at being next in line. Tommy was honest, though- brutally, Wilbur would say. He was a breath of fresh air amongst stuffy people and suffocating stone walls. If his adviser was here, he’d say Wilbur had a pattern of surrounding himself with people who are willing to call him an idiot- Wilbur was starting to think he had a point. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Prince Tommy.”He breathed, then took a step back to once again lean against the window sill. “Has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy lowered his gaze to his hands, brows furrowing as he closed his mouth in thought. Wilbur waited patiently, watching the way Tommy’s face shifted from shock to something more concentrated, an epiphanic light igniting in his eyes. “So…” He looked up, “If I was prince… that would mean I’d be king after you die and shit.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He blinked, staring at the boy with an incredulous look, mouth opening in surprise for a moment before a laugh escaped him, leaning forward with the force of it. It was such a genuine question, said with a straight face. He breathed, trying to compose himself as he saw Tommy just staring at him. “Yes, yes it does mean that!” He managed, “Sorry-” he coughed, covering up a small crack in his voice. “You just sounded so </span>
  <em>
    <span>genuine.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well it's a genuine question!” Tommy shot back. “I gotta know shit before I agree, don’t I?” He scrunched his nose. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re right, you’re right- an educated yes is the best kind of yes.” He waves his hand dismissively. “And yes, it would make you the king after I pass- not that it would happen any time soon, though.” He grinned, waggling his finger at Tommy. “So don’t get any ideas.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What- I wasn’t, what the hell kind of-” He faltered, mouth opening and closing as his face turned red. “I wasn’t even thinking about it until you said something, why would you even-” He threw his arms up, letting out a frustrated noise. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur just laughed, watching him flounder for a moment before pushing himself away from the ledge and once again placing a hand on Tommy’s shoulder, watching as he immediately stopped his rambling. “I know, Tommy. I was just kidding- you’re far too easy to read.” He smiled, “And easy to rile up, apparently.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy frowned at that, “No I’m not.” he grumbled, deflating as Wilbur just smiling at him. “You’re just an asshole.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He chuckled, “An asshole </span>
  <em>
    <span>and </span>
  </em>
  <span>a bitch now- I must be moving up in the world.” He hummed thoughtfully, letting the silence hang for a moment between them, staring down at Tommy. It never occurred to him how dirty he was- ripped clothes, blonde hair appearing nearly brown with dust and dirt. His wrists were still red and raw, and he could see the remnants of a split lip. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lifted his hand from Tommy’s shoulder and turned, beginning his walk down the hall once again. “But let’s not get ahead of ourselves- this isn’t something you need to agree upon right this very second.” He waved his hand, beckoning Tommy to follow him. “Why don’t you go and wash up a bit? Your hands look like they could use a good cleaning.” He could see Tommy drop his hands to his side as soon as he said it, head snapping to look anywhere but at Wilbur. “You could even join me for dinner! We could discuss it more there-” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur came to a sudden halt, back straightening as he registered what Tommy had said. He blinked, brows furrowing slightly. “What?” He asked, slowly turning to face the boy again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s that fire in his eyes again, burning bright as his face reddens again. “Wait- no I didn’t mean-” He floundered, huffing out a frustrated breath as he tried to organise himself. Wilbur waited patiently, brow quirked.“I meant… I don’t need to think about it longer.” He clarified, looking from his hands to Wilbur. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And for the second time in a row, Wilbur found himself blinking at the kid. “... Oh.” He said simply, grasping for something to say. “So you accept?” He finally settled on, letting a small smile spread across his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What kind of idiot wouldn’t?” He scrunched his nose, that same sour look from before returning. “I’m gonna make </span>
  <em>
    <span>such </span>
  </em>
  <span>an awesome fuckin’ king.” He grinned hesitantly, as if waiting for Wilbur’s reaction. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite himself, Wilbur found himself laughing again. Really, he’d hardly stopped since he’d met the kid. “Sure you will!” He clapped Tommy on the shoulder, ushering him forward. “Now let’s get you settled in, shall we? Dinner’s still a couple hours away, and then tomorrow will be paperwork!” He nearly burst into laughter again at the way Tommy's face dropped at the mention of paperwork. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He ushered Tommy towards the west wing, just a few doors down from his own suite. He handed Tommy a fresh set of clothes, clothes that were just a tad bit oversized, and laughed at the way Tommy’s face scowled at the soft fabric. He showed Tommy how to start the bath, and where things were located, then left him to his own devices within his new room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>All the while, a single thought came to mind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had no idea how to raise a child. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Conversations and Bathrooms</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Teasing, flooding, confusion, oh my! </p><p>Wilbur has to talk to his advisor about the decision he's decided to make without advising him. </p><p>Meanwhile Tommy is left to his own devises in a room that's supposed to be his now. </p><p>This can only end well</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>WOW I CAN'T BELIEVE I ACTUALLY UPLOADED FOR ONCE IN MY LIFE</p><p>When i say im bad at uploading, i mean it. It takes me way too fucking long to post, despite the fact im in a discord server literally talking about my aus for hours on end.<br/>One day i'll post consistently. One day</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“You did </span>
  <em>
    <span>what?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he slowly looked back at his advisor. The younger man was looking at him with wide eyes, mouth agape. His hands were firmly on the desk, holding himself up. Slowly, Wilbur leaned back in his chair, pushing the papers aside. “It’s very simple, Quackity. I decided to adopt.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, adopt a</span>
  <em>
    <span> fucking criminal!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>He smacked his hand on the dark oak. “What could have possibly made you think that was a good idea.” He waved his other hand in the air, stepping back from the desk. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He absentmindedly lifted his pen, rolling it between his fingers. “I mean, he called me a bitch, so…” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“What?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Quackity shouted, a hand slapping over his mouth in surprise. He stared at Wilbur for a moment, blinking rapidly. Laughter quickly bubbled out of him until he was practically cackling, any ounce of concern quickly leaving him. “Oh my God, he did not!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>WIlbur couldn’t help laughing lightly as well. “He did. Called me a bitch in front of the entire court- Sam was there, you could ask him if you don’t believe me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh I will definitely be talking to Sam about this- </span>
  <em>
    <span>holy shit.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>He stepped away from the desk, hands coming to his hips as he tried to calm his laughter. “So you just…” He cut himself off, snickering. “So you just decided </span>
  <em>
    <span>hey, I’m gonna adopt this kid that just called me a bitch?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Essentially.” He smiled, “He was a fighter, Quackity.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>And honest, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he didn’t add. He wore his expressions on his face like a badge, with nothing to hide. His words perfectly matched his every emotion, like an open book for everyone to read. In a life surrounded by politics, it was a breath of fresh air. “He’s a good kid.” He hummed thoughtfully. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He blinked, suddenly realizing Quackity had gone quiet. He looked forward, frowning as he saw Quackity just grinning at him dumbly, something… mischievous in his eyes. “I don’t like that look in your eye…” He scrunched his nose, “What is it?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quackity waved his hand dismissively, grinning like the cat that caught the canary. “Oh it’s nothing, Wilbur…” He sat down in his chair once again, legs crossing as he leaned back. “It's just…” he giggled, “You </span>
  <em>
    <span>so </span>
  </em>
  <span>have a type.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? No I don’t.” He defended immediately. Quackity just continued to grin at him, eyes crinkled in amusement. Wilbur narrowed his eyes, glaring. “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>don’t!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Did he? Surely not- </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh you sure as fuck do!” Quackity sing-songed. “Let’s see… Sam told you to shut up and you immediately promoted him to head captain…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That was </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>why I-” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“- You made me your personal adviser after I started </span>
  <em>
    <span>laughing </span>
  </em>
  <span>in a court meeting because the defendant’s surname was </span>
  <em>
    <span>Bebis-”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“It </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>funny, you have to admit that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And now you’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>adopting the kid who called you a bitch.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>He finished smugly, and Wilbur couldn’t even fight it. “Is this becoming a habit, Wilbur?” He said, the biggest shit-eating grin on his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No! No, it is </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> becoming a habit.” He said firmly, pointing a finger at Quackity. “Three times does not make it a habit.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure, whatever you say…” He shrugged nonchalantly. He stood slowly and moved towards the study’s doors.“It’s not a habit…” He glanced back at Wilbur, that same stupid smile on his face. “... </span>
  <em>
    <span>Yet.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur’s mouth quickly opened, then closed as he watched Quackity bolt from the room with a cackle. He grumbled, clenching his fists before quickly standing. "Quackity!" He yelled after him. He could hear the man's laughing echoing off the walls. Rounding his desk, he took off after him.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>The room was huge. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Absolutely massive. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Like holy shit an entire </span>
  <em>
    <span>family </span>
  </em>
  <span>could fit in here. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy stood dumbfounded, the bundle of clothes the king had given him held tightly in his hands. The ceiling was unbelievably high, the floors were </span>
  <em>
    <span>carpeted, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and the bed was so comically large Tommy couldn't believe it was real. It had to be a dream- that was the only explanation. He was dead, and this was a dream, or it was some kind of sick joke his brain decided to play on him. there was no way the </span>
  <em>
    <span>King </span>
  </em>
  <span>of L'manburg just- just… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took a small step forward, then another, until he was at the foot of the ridiculously large bed. He took a deep breath, collected his thoughts, then promptly fell face first into the soft bedding. His feet couldn't even touch the ground anymore. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It smelled too sweet, like candy fresh from the market, and something disgustingly floral. He scrunched his nose and rolled onto his back, hands letting go of the trousers and shirt. His eyes slipped close as he let out a huff of breath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was real- there was no way his brain was making him smell stupid </span>
  <em>
    <span>flowers </span>
  </em>
  <span>if he was dead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He snorted at his own thought, then let out a breathy laugh, then a giggle bubbled out of him, until he devolved into a fit of laughter. He stared at the intricate canopy above him, laughing hysterically as the situation began to sink in. He kicked off the ratty shoes he had and sat up, grinning. He climbed fully on the bed, reaching for a pillow; they were ridiculously soft. Who needed pillows this soft? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tommy, apparently. Because this was </span>
  <em>
    <span>his </span>
  </em>
  <span>room now. And man if that wasn’t the strangest thing to think about. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was a prince and shit now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He climbed off the bed and walked to the door left of him- the king had said it was a bath. He wondered what kind of fancy bathroom princes had- he remembered Tubbo saying rich people always had fancy soaps and shit in their bathrooms. Opening the door, his eyes balked at the sight before him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>massive </span>
  </em>
  <span>tub. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The room was pristine and clean, the white marbled floor leading straight to a giant clawfoot tub. There were all kinds of bottles and fancy looking things beside the bath, lined neatly on the lip. A giant mirror was on the opposite wall, right above a large sink. The toilet had some kind of second, smaller toilet next to it- who the fuck needed two toilets. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Apparently he does. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because it’s his bathroom now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He approached the smaller, useless toilet and stared at it, eyes narrowed. Was it a toilet? Or did fancy people have some fancy dumb water fountains in their bathrooms? It looked like it had some kind of… button on it. He leaned over it, inspecting the porcelain sphere as he hesitantly pressed the button.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Only to be met with a face full of water. He sputtered, squeezing his eyes closed. “What the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” He blinked rapidly, wiping the water from his eyes. He stared at the weird toilet, mouth hanging open in confusion for a moment before bursting into laughter. He chokes on his laugh, falling back onto his butt. It shoots water. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Holy shit, he has a weapon in his bathroom. His toilet can shoot people. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He scrambled over, moving out of the way this time as he presses the button again, watching the water launch out and land just a couple feet away. He laughed again, eyes wide with glee. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rich people were so fucking weird. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked at the bath again, an idea coming to his mind. He grinned and stood, hurrying over to the tub. He turned the faucet on, putting his hand under it as he felt the water begin to heat up. He practically melted at the feeling- a warm bath, he wasn’t sure when the last time he’d had one of those was. Probably when Tubbo snuck him in. He looked at the bottles on the lip of the tub and grabbed one of the bars of soap. He gave it a sniff, scowling at the weirdly fruity smell.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without a second thought, he dropped it into the bath and watched it sink to the bottom. Boring. Not even a little fizz. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turned to the next thing, a large bottle and grabbed it. Removing the lid, he was immediately met by a strong medicinal smell- like mint and other herbs. At least it wasn't </span>
  <em>
    <span>flowers </span>
  </em>
  <span>this time. He poured it in, depositing the entire bottle into the bath. His mouth opened wide in surprise as it immediately began to bubble. He laughed, delighted by the sight. The foamy bubbles quickly surpassed the lip of the tub as the water rose. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wondered how high he could get it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Opening the remaining bottles beside the bath, he poured them in as well and watched as the bubbles doubled and tripled in size. He practically cackled at the sight, grinning wildly. This was amazing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was absolutely phenomenal. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pulling off his shirt and trousers as quickly as possible, he hoisted himself and leapt into the bath with a </span>
  <em>
    <span>splash.</span>
  </em>
  <span> The bubbles completely encased submerged him as the water sloshed around and poured over the edge of the tub. He submerged himself completely under the water before jumping back to the surface with a gasp. He shook out his hair, laughing at the water hitting the bubbles. He grabbed the bar of soap he’d tossed in earlier and lifted it out of the water. It had grown filmy and slippery. He squeezed it as hard as possible and watched it fly out of his hand, landing somewhere on the floor. He laughed loudly, wiping his wet hair out of his face. He leaned back to rest his head on the tub. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His scraped knees burned slightly, the hot water and soap mixing into the shallow cuts. It stung, but it still felt nice. It was probably the nicest bath he’d ever had. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he could do this whenever he wanted now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took a deep breath and let himself relax into the water, giggling lightly at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation. He really was a prince now, wasn’t he? This was his bath now, in his room, with </span>
  <em>
    <span>his </span>
  </em>
  <span>things. He had to tell Tubbo about this- he’d freak if he saw Tommy now, lounging in a massive bath with a mountain of bubbles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He just went from being stuck in a cell to a bedroom with more space than he thinks he’ll ever need. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That really did happen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He let out a deep breath, sinking lower into the water until it was just under his nose. Today had gone by in a blurr, everything seemed to go so fast. One minute it was the cell, then court, then the </span>
  <em>
    <span>walk… </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It could probably disappear just as fast, too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sat up completely as the thought hit him, blinking. The thought was so sudden, it felt as though a stone dropped into his gut. There’s nothing stopping Wilbur from changing his mind- he didn’t know this man, he could turn around and put him right back in that cell. He could do that, for any reason. And Tommy wouldn’t be able to stop him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He suddenly felt hyper aware of the water all over the floor, the empty bottles of soaps. He felt something twist in his gut, making him frown. He swallowed and stood, climbing out of the tub as carefully as he could. His hands shook, just slightly, as he let out a shuddering breath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could lose this before he even knew what was happening, before it was ever actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>his. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s back in the bedroom before he knows it, putting on the fresh pair of clothes. They don’t fit- the sleeves are all wrong and it’s nearly slipping off one shoulder.  The trousers are too long, practically dragging behind him as he throws his old rags on the bed. His hair is still wet. The only towel laid neatly on the chair beside the bedroom door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grabbed it and shuffled back to the bathroom. The water was nearly drained from the tub now. He places it on the floor, haphazardly soaking up the water and pushing it around with his foot. He presses his lips into a thin line, staring down at the now-soaked towel. There were still bottles on the floor too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s gonna need more towels. Holy shit, he’s gonna need </span>
  <em>
    <span>so </span>
  </em>
  <span>many more towels. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And there’s none in this entire gigantic bathroom. Who the fuck designed this? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He scrunched his nose, frowning. He needed to clean this up, he needed more towels </span>
  <em>
    <span>where the fuck were the towels. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He shuffled back to his room and to his door. He opened it just a crack, looking around the empty hall. There had to be a utility closet </span>
  <em>
    <span>somewhere</span>
  </em>
  <span>, or a laundry room. He could find it, he knows how to find shit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shuffles into the hall slowly, scanning the doors for any labels- apparently these people didn’t believe in them though because </span>
  <em>
    <span>nothing is labeled. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He scowls and wanders further down the hall, looking carefully at every door he passes. He’s seen utility closets, they can’t be that hard to distinguish, right? His hands twitch nervously as he reaches an intersection, where it meets the main hallway. He peers around the corner- no one was in sight once again. Not a single servant or maid. He frowned, slowly emerging into the main hall. Okay. So far so good- </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tommy?” He nearly screamed, whipping around as the sound of his name, arms flailing. He blinked, greeted by a brown shirt right in front of him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then he looked up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And was greeted by King Wilbur standing in front of him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you doing out here? Did you need something, Tommy?” Wilbur asked, brows furrowed curiously. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I- uh…” he opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out. What the fuck do you say in this situation? “Oh hey man that just adopted me, I kind of flooded the bathroom”? Yeah, sure, </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> would go over well. Nothing bad would happen if he said that, none at all. Nope. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tommy…?” he prompted, brow raised. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Towels!” He blurted suddenly, mouth moving before his brain. “I need, uh, towels for… reasons?” He pressed his lips together, shoulders hunched. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Towels.” he repeated, blinking. “You need towels?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah! Towels- lots of ‘em.” He laughed nervously. “Because of reasons.” He looked anywhere but Wilbur’s face. The man only hummed, looking down at Tommy patiently. Tommy’s hand twitched nervously. He kept his mouth in a thin line, trying to keep his mouth from running. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay! So I may have flooded the bathroom!” And there it was- Tommy couldn’t even keep it in for five seconds. He threw his hands up before quickly crossing them over his chest, fingers tapping against his arm. “But it’s not my fault, no one showed me how to fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>use </span>
  </em>
  <span>anything in there, how was I supposed to know the toilet had a fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>weapon</span>
  </em>
  <span> on it-” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tommy-” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“- And then there were no towels, what kind of fucking bathroom doesn’t have </span>
  <em>
    <span>towels </span>
  </em>
  <span>in it? So technically it’s your fault, not mine-” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tommy!” His mouth clamped shut audibly, eyes snapping up to meet the king’s. His brows were furrowed, but there was a confused, small smile on his face. He stared down at Tommy with bemusement, “Tommy, we have maids that can clean that up.” He said simply. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... Oh.” He blinked, lowering his gaze ever so slightly. Oh right, okay. This fucker was rich, he had servants. Tommy wasn’t one of those servants, he didn’t need to clean it up. Wow, he feels stupid now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilbur chuckles, shaking his head at him before clapping a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll have a maid go clean it later- it’s their job, after all. Are you hungry?” he starts ushering Tommy into the main hall. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh…” he blinks, going along with Wilbur. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wonderful, me too.” He grins, swinging his arm out to point further down the hall. “I’m feeling a sandwich right about now- the chefs make some </span>
  <em>
    <span>wonderful </span>
  </em>
  <span>tuna sandwiches. How does that sound?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve never had tuna.” He answers dumbly, brain not completely caught up yet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh then we’ll definitely have to change that, Tommy Innit! And we can talk about the adoption details while we do so-” He continued, leading Tommy towards the dining hall. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>:)</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I hope y'all like this!!! Cuz i have no idea when im gonna get the next part out-</p><p>Hey :) I have a discord now: https://discord.gg/7duPWNW8RB</p><p>Y'all should join that'd be very pog</p></blockquote></div></div>
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